


share

by wordcouture



Category: bts
Genre: Bad Porn, M/M, Really bad porn, do not say i did not warn you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 13:31:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3571442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordcouture/pseuds/wordcouture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>taehyung and jungkook share a hotel room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	share

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta-ed because it's fucking 2:46AM and i have a flight to amsterdam to catch tomorrow but i couldn't sleep till i finished this damn thing.

The issue of picking roommates is always a huge one—everyone has their own preferences, and while they (thankfully) now have individual rooms in the dorm, while traveling, they could afford no such luxury. They weren’t  _that_  big yet.

Taehyung loves sharing, food, clothes,  _himself_.

Jungkook is less so, but years of living with six other boys, and he’s gotten used to it. He finds himself relatively unfazed when Jimin grabs one of his shirts, or when Taehyung leans over for a bite of his food (but he still flushes too hard when he finds his underwear in Yoongi’s drawer). Usually, Jungkook doesn’t mind sharing.

This is  _not_  usually.

In fact, this is nowhere near the realm of  _usual_  because three days prior to their departure and subsequent need to share rooms, he and Taehyung had gotten a little too tipsy, Taehyung a little too handsy, Jungkook a little too lenient, leaving both of them  _more_  than a little breathless, and stains the size of dinner plates on Jungkook’s sheets.

Taehyung had brushed it off like Tuesday morning muffin crumbles and grinned like it was nothing, hopping off to shower, leaving Jungkook somewhere between numb and entirely too sensitive. The rest of the dorm was quiet that morning, breakfast wrapped in sleep deprived lethargy and the smell of freshly made rice. No one asked about the night before.

There were no secrets when living with six other boys. It was no secret that, boys being the way they are, once in a while, frustrations ran high. It was no secret (how could it be—Jimin can’t keep quiet for the world) that Hoseok and Jimin showered together for very specific reasons, or that Namjoon and Yoongi sometimes left each other’s rooms in the morning, bleary-eyed and much too mellow, or that Taehyung sometimes hung back to help Seokjin with choreo when Hoseok or Jimin or Jungkook knew it better, or that Jimin and Jungkook seek each other out when they’re upset because Jungkook would be lying if he said he didn’t like the taste of Jimin’s lips, the sounds he makes in the back of his throat when Jungkook bites just a bit too hard.

There are no secrets—save this one.

The one that Jungkook had held so close to his chest that it feels like a part of his heartbeat, thrumming constantly in his chest, laced through his breathing at night when he lies awake, staring at the ceiling, listening for sounds in the room next because maybe, maybe,  _maybe_  Taehyung will say something in his sleep. Maybe, maybe, maybe, there’ll be a sign,  _something_  to… what? Prove that Jungkook isn’t just pining after the impossible? That there’s a chance Taehyung might, might, might,  _might_  feel something other than skin on skin, hear something other than clipped voices and names dripping down shoulders, filling in the dips of collarbones, running up spines because Jungkook sure as  _fuck_  (pun maybe intended) does.

And they wonder why he never goes to Taehyung, why he gets quiet whenever Taehyung drapes himself over anyone else.

“We’re gonna be roomies!” Taehyung grins like freshly squeezed sunshine with a heavy side of whipped cream excitement and Jungkook crinkles his nose.

“Yeah,” he says, jerking away when Taehyung tries to nuzzle into his neck.

Taehyung pauses, his head quirking in that bird-like way, looking a little hurt, a lot confused. But he doesn’t press the issue and lets go of Jungkook’s shoulders.

Night falls like certainty, solid as simplicity.

Taehyung lets Jungkook take a shower first.

The steam rises and curls around his body, hot water searing against his skin, his mind fogs over with possibilities and implications and he bites his lip to keep them down, boiling in the pit of his stomach. What if, what if, what  _if_.

Fifteen minutes later, Taehyung’s voice breaks the mist of quiet, the white noise of shower water.

“Jungkookie~ save some of the hot water for me~” he drags out the endings of his words and Jungkook closes his eyes, pressing his forehead against the cool bathroom tiles.

“Okay, I’ll be out in a sec.”

He goes through the movements, mind too busy sorting through a myriad of emotions, thoughts, fantasies, desires, to really register turning off the shower and drying himself off. When he finally comes to, it’s to Taehyung’s face, all too close to his own, huge eyes blinking up at him, head quirked, curious and searching.

“I’m… done with the shower,” Jungkook says, rather dumbly.

Taehyung grins, “Ah yes, thank you for that vital piece of information. I would have never guessed it myself.” His voice is low and smooth, like a commentator during a sports match.

Jungkook tries to elbow him as they pass each other. Taehyung dodges and whoops.

“He misses! That’s one point for Taehyung, zero for Jungkookie!”

Jungkook turns with full intention of hitting his damn mark this time, but pauses as he catches sight of Taehyung, already topless, shucking his pants and kicking it into the corner of the bathroom. Jungkook's face goes red and before he can turn back round, Taehyung meets his eyes and winks.

“Like what you see?” Taehyung waggles his eyebrows.

Jungkook can only manage a scoff, and even that’s unconvincing. Taehyung shimmies up to him, completely naked, and presses his face into Jungkook’s, eyes dark and playful, something bubbling right beneath the glazed surface of his gaze. Jungkook can’t  _think_  for the heat playing up his skin.

A moment later, Taehyung backs away, dancing into the shower.

“Do not worry, young one, I shall be but a moment,” he says, voice echoing in the small bathroom and without the diamond pressure of Taehyung’s eyes on him, Jungkook finally manages a long breath and a  _take your damn shower, hyeong_.

He face plants into the twin bed, letting out a long groan. His body is sore from the hours of dance practice, thoughts still slippery from the shower, skin still burning as if the hot water had left him boiled and raw. In an attempt to keep his mind occupied, he flicks through their twitter notifications and picks a particularly good picture of himself, posting it up and watching the retweets stack up against his screen.

“I’m back! Didya miss me?” Taehyung gives Jungkook less than a second’s warning, his voice already too close, before his entire weight lands on Jungkook and knocks him breathless. His mind reels and it takes a moment to string it back, thoughts flailing like his arms, eyes searching for something to ground him enough to make sense of the world spinning around him.

He finds Taehyung’s smile.

“ _Fuck_ —” Jungkook coughs and takes a deep breath, squirming under Taehyung as he finds a comfortable enough position, saddled over Jungkook’s hips. He regards Jungkook from his vantage point and quirks an eyebrow, eyes darkening, a slow smile curling his lips.

“Well you could have just  _asked_ —”

It’s only then that Jungkook realizes, belated, that Taehyung is still naked, his hair damp from the shower, his skin glistening with warmth. Jungkook’s face feels like it could burn right off as he turns his head and frowns to keep himself from staring.

“I’m going to sleep.”

Taehyung quiets and the room spills over in silence, brewing with unasked questions, unspoken words, assumptions gone awry and above all that, the disconnected thrum of thumping hearts. Taehyung doesn’t move, only looks down at Jungkook and he can tell Taehyung isn’t smiling anymore.

“If it’s something I said—” Taehyung’s voice is serious like it almost never is, not on camera at least.

Jungkook’s head snaps to. “It isn’t.”

Taehyung frowns. “Then  _what_?”

Jungkook huffs and chews on his lips for the words pressing against the back of his teeth.

“Fine.” Taehyung swings his legs over Jungkook’s body and slides off the bed. Taehyung doesn’t get angry easy but Jungkook sees it in the stiff of his shoulders, the tense of his movements as he rummages around for a nightshirt, tugging it on and flopping into his own bed.

He clicks off the lights and Jungkook sinks further into his sheets, hoping that they’ll just let him sink through the floor and possibly right to the core of the earth where he’ll just be swallowed up by the molten heat and be done with it.  

“It’s not… anything you said,” he starts, quiet, hesitant. Taehyung doesn’t respond. The room presses in from all sides, closing over Jungkook till he can barely think.

“I just… don’t know what to think,” a thick, heavy breath, “I don’t want to delude myself into thinking that… I dunno… there’s something there that’s not there… or that you’re thinking something that I’m thinking or…”

Jungkook pulls the covers above his head to hide his face, because even though it’s dark, it gives him some reassurance that Taehyung can’t see how disgustingly red his cheeks must be. Its times like these that he wishes he were older, could somehow inherit a larger body of experience, and maybe a larger vocabulary with which to articulate his feelings. He’s never been good at that. He should talk to Namjoon, maybe get some tips.

The sound of shifting cloth and a deep sigh and then, “You suck at this talking thing.”

Jungkook pulls the covers back down and turns to face Taehyung, or rather the direction Taehyung’s voice is coming from.

“Thanks,” he says, dryly.

Taehyung laughs then, and Jungkook feels the room let go, alleviating the tightness gathered in his chest. More shifting covers, then his own bed dips as he feels Taehyung sit down, leg pushing his own to make more space. And in the span of five seconds, Taehyung has curled himself around Jungkook, their faces so close Jungkook can taste the strawberry panna cotta Taehyung had for dessert in the air between them. Their noses touch and somehow, Jungkook knows that Taehyung is grinning.

“You’re not deluding yourself, because I am thinking what you think I’m thinking, and what you think is there is there, so that’s that,” Taehyung says and Jungkook lets his eyes flutter shut, leaning in to press their foreheads together.

“You’re not just saying that?” Jungkook’s voice is so low it might have been a whisper.

Taehyung shakes his head, and again, another peel of that moon-bright laughter, “I’d be a pretty shit person if I were.”

Jungkook makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and Taehyung leans forward to bite his cheek. Jungkook jerks back, wide-eyed, but laughing as well.

“Ow! That really hurt!”

“Really? Seokjin-hyeong always really loves it when I—”

Jungkook groans and shoves a pillow in Taehyung’s face. “I don’t wanna know, I don’t wanna know, I don’t wanna know.”

Taehyung swats the pillow out of his face and pulls Jungkook back, a hand at the back of his neck to keep him from pulling away again. This time, Jungkook catches the light in Taehyung’s eyes, star-sharp like crystal nights. 

“Want me to kiss it better?” There’s just a drag of sultry to Taehyung’s voice and Jungkook fights down a shiver. The  _no_  in his mouth changes its mind halfway and comes out as a contorted kind of  _nyes_.

Taehyung frowns. “Not the answer I was expecting. Is that ‘yes’ in Jungkookinese? I thought I was pretty well versed in that, but apparently—”

Jungkook cuts Taehyung off with his own lips, instinct kicking in before rationality can. When it finally catches up, Jungkook pulls back, gasping and already mumbling excuses.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—I just—was that—I mean—”

Taehyung leans in this time, and Jungkook’s memory jolts. He remembers in soju-scented-fragments that Taehyung’s lips are warm and gentle and teasing. And they are.

“You  _really_  need to work on that talking thing,” Taehyung says when he leans back, and this time, Jungkook keeps quiet. Taehyung lifts a hand to run a finger along Jungkook’s cheek, giggling as he does so.

“You’re burnin’ up like a frying pan. I bet I could make some eggs on your face right now, add a little salt and pepper and—”

“Is this your idea of pillow talk? Because I’m not really sure how any of that is remotely sexy.”

“Whoa whoa  _whoa_ , who said anything about  _sex_?”

Jungkook buries his head in the pillow and squeezes his eyes shut.  _God fucking damnit_.

“I mean, it’s not like we haven’t done it before, and you were  _pretty_  great if I—” Taehyung rambles on and Jungkook hears the smirk in his voice before he feels Taehyung’s fingers making lazy circles along his back. He bites back a moan and keeps his face well hidden.

“… but I mean I do remember wanting to remember it, so…” Taehyung trails off and his hand pauses. Jungkook peers up at Taehyung in the darkness and finds that their faces are a lot closer than he had originally thought.

The laws of magnetism state that the closer two opposing poles are, the stronger the attraction becomes, and  _this_ , Jungkook decides, is definitive proof. Screw the Earth’s rotation around the Sun, or the fact that apples fall towards the ground— _this,_  the feeling of his and Taehyung’s lips drawing closer and closer is the only proof he’ll ever need that magnetism is real.

So it is.

Somewhere between one kiss and the next, one escaped breath and another, Jungkook finds himself naked and pinned to the bed, arms above his head, Taehyung’s tongue skimming a wet trail along his neck and collarbones, sucking bruising flowers into his skin, kissing over them as if to seal them in, till Taehyung moves down over Jungkook’s chest and his breath catches and catches and catches till there isn’t any more breath to catch because Taehyung is nipping and licking at Jungkook’s nipples and  _god_.

The shocks of pleasure pool straight to his dick as Taehyung slides back over Jungkook’s body and bites at his lower lip, kissing him in soft, languid motions that have Jungkook whining, hips pressing up, incessant and treading the border of desperate.

Taehyung leans back and grins. “Now here’s something you don’t see every day.”

“Shut  _up_.” Jungkook rolls his hips again and pins Taehyung with an impatient look.

“Good things  _come_  to those who wait,” Taehyung says in a sing-song voice, holding both Jungkook’s wrists in his own, pressing a finger to Jungkook’s lips. “And we can’t be too loud—these walls are not made for the sex.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes but stays silent.

“Good boy~” Taehyung leans in to give Jungkook an eskimo kiss and Jungkook resists the urge to snap but the next second, Taehyung is dipping down, down, down till he’s right between Jungkook’s legs and every single thought Jungkook had up until that point dies into the sensation of Taehyung’s tongue trailing along the underside of Jungkook’s dick.

“ _Sh-shit_.”

“Shh,” Taehyung says, looking up. Jungkook props himself up on his elbows and glances down. swallowing thickly—now  _here’s_  something you don’t see every day indeed. He watches as Taehyung leans in and licks at his slit, tongue flickering out in kittenish curiosity. Then, before Jungkook can make a single noise, Taehyung lets his jaw fall slack and wraps his lips around the tip of Jungkook’s cock, sucking hard. Jungkook’s head falls back into the pillows as his arms give way.

Taehyung’s head-giving skills, Jungkook decides, are much too advanced. He wonders, with a brief stab of jealousy, who Taehyung must have practiced on to get this damn good, but Taehyung never lets him get too far into his thoughts. Jungkook’s mind draws a blank as Taehyung wraps his hands around the base of Jungkook’s dick and gives it a harsh pump, swirling his tongue in circles till Jungkook is panting. His fingers fist in Taehyung’s hair and he presses down as his hips jerk up. The feeling of himself hitting the back of Taehyung’s throat followed by the muffled sounds of Taehyung almost choking has Jungkook cursing, thighs tightening but Taehyung pulls back and Jungkook lets out a yelp at the sudden loss of contact.

He looks down at Taehyung, who is wiping his lips on the back of his hand.

“Pick a hand,” Taehyung says.

Jungkook blinks. “What?”

“Pick a hand,” Taehyung repeats, propping his elbows up and holding out both hands in fists.

“Why?” It’s difficult to concentrate on Taehyung’s hands when Jungkook can still see the shine of Taehyung’s lips and it’s proximity to his own dick, hard and painfully unattended to.

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “Just pick a damn hand.”

“Right,” Jungkook says, and immediately regrets it because Taehyung slides off the bed and makes towards his own bed. Jungkook watches in a stunned confusion as Taehyung bends over the foot of his own bed and starts rummaging through his luggage for something.

“What are you looking—”

“A-ha!” Taehyung straightens up, holding  _something_  in his hands, tumbling back into bed with Jungkook. There’s a crinkle of plastic and Jungkook squints at Taehyung’s hands. There’s what looks like a hand lotion tube and then… a lollipop?

Taehyung sits up and moves between Jungkook’s legs again, pulling them on either side of his hips so that Jungkook’s ass is resting against his thighs, and he uncaps the tube.

“KY-Jelly,” Taehyung says, “You’re gonna need a lot of it.” Then he squeezes a very liberal amount of it onto his fingers and reaches between Jungkook’s ass crack to press them against his hole.

“I-I don’t remember… last time…” Jungkook’s words come in broken gasps as his hands curl into fists at the sensation of Taehyung slowly fingering him open.

“That’s cause you did the fucking last time,” Taehyung says, almost conversational, as Jungkook lets out a drawn out moan and Taehyung adds another finger.

“So w-why…” Jungkook breaks off again in a low keening. Taehyung is curling his fingers and he brushes against Jungkook’s prostate, making Jungkook jerk his hips, stomach tightening.

“Why do I get to do the fucking this time?” Taehyung finishes for him, voice still as light as if they were discussing possible colors for their fanclub over lunch, “because you picked the right hand. Left hand, you do the fucking. Right hand, I do the fucking.”

Taehyung snaps his wrist and Jungkook’s voice breaks, his entire body  _shaking_  with anticipation, carnal need tugging at the frayed ends of his nerves, mind and muscles begging for some kind of satisfaction, some kind of  _release_. But then Taehyung is pulling away from the nth time that night and Jungkook thinks he might go mad.

“Taehyung, I swear to  _god_ —”

“Shh, holy shit, you’re gonna wake up the whole building,” Taehyung snaps, taking the lollipop-shaped thing and pulling on the plastic. It comes off easily and only after Taehyung removes the stick handle does Jungkook realize that it’s a condom.

“Where the hell did you—it looked like a fucking lollipop.” Jungkook is momentarily distracted by the strangeness of it all, watching Taehyung slip the condom over his own,  _very_  much hard, dick.

Taehyung replies with a grin, “Japan.”

Of course.

Taehyung leans over Jungkook to peck at his lips, “This is gonna hurt a bit, kay?”

Jungkook nods, heart thudding, eyes caught in Taehyung’s, so huge and dark and tender. He feels Taehyung pushing into him and hisses at the stretch, the initial shocks of dull, throbbing pain. Jungkook lets out a soft whine. Taehyung’s lips find his as their fingers lace and Jungkook kisses back if only to distract himself from the discomfort. Everything is quiet when Jungkook feels their bodies meet, Taehyung holding completely still, waiting. Jungkook breathes, heavy and paced, mind searching for some coherence beyond the mix of pain and pleasure thrumming through his bones. He squeezes around Taehyung and Taehyung gasps.

Jungkook grins at the sound and gives his own hips an experimental roll. Taehyung buries his face in Jungkook’s neck and groans.

“You good?” Taehyung asks, voice muffled on Jungkook’s skin.

Jungkook smiles soft and nods. “Are  _you_?”

Taehyung lifts his head and nips at Jungkook’s lips, his voice is hoarse, “More than good.” And with that, Taehyung thrusts his hips down, slow and long, and Jungkook feels his thoughts lose themselves to the mind-numbing friction, the pull and push and drag of Taehyung’s dick inside him, the tip skimming against his prostate each time. And Taehyung has a particular way of snapping his hips just at the end of his thrusts that has Jungkook grappling for his sanity because if this keeps up, there won’t be a morning to wake up to, only this heat-soaked darkness swirling around their bodies, twisting them together till neither of them can figure where one person ends and the other begins.

Taehyung keeps a steady pace, holding himself low and caged over Jungkook so he can lean down for a kiss whenever he wants, so he can see Jungkook’s face, painted in every shade of desire. And only when Jungkook starts working his own hips up to meet Taehyung does he pick up the pace, tracing one hand along Jungkook’s leg to hook it over his hips, panting against Jungkook’s shoulder as the pair of them find a rhythm and work into each other, faster and faster till Jungkook can’t take it anymore, hooks his leg down, and flips them so he’s straddling Taehyung’s hips, hands on Taehyung’s broad shoulders, pressing him into the mattress.

From here, Jungkook can see why Taehyung liked being on top. Taehyung looks so damn good, breathless and sweaty, mouth open, lips kiss-bruised and wet. Jungkook lets his hands slide down Taehyung’s chest, fingers skimming over Taehyung’s nipples, grinning as Taehyung yelps and bites down on his own lips to keep himself quiet, before Jungkook steadies himself, pushing up and pressing down, thighs working over Taehyung’s hips.

Taehyung’s hands come to rest on Jungkook’s hips, curling around to squeeze at Jungkook’s ass as Jungkook sets off at a ruthless pace, so much faster than before, and this time, Taehyung doesn’t harp on about being quiet because  _he_  can’t do it himself—his little mewling moans give way to much louder, much more clipped versions of Jungkook’s name intertwined with curse words that don’t ever make it out of his mouth all the way before the next one comes tumbling after. Jungkook takes Taehyung’s hands and presses them up till they’re above Taehyung’s head and leans down to mouth at Taehyung’s neck, teeth slight against his skin, loving the way Taehyung yelps, the way his hips buck up each time. Jungkook works his way down to Taehyung’s nipples and swirls one around with a tongue, pinching the other between his fingers and Taehyung bucks up so hard Jungkook almost loses balance. He gives Taehyung’s nipple one last tug before letting it pop from his lips, rolling his own hips down once, twice, three times, groaning loud at the slick heat and slide of their bodies against each other.

“ _Harder_.” Taehyung tugs against Jungkook’s hand, keeping him pinned. His voice is so low it rumbles through his chest and Jungkook shudders, his free hand falling to his own dick, palming at it. Taehyung tugs against his hand again, “let me to do that.”

And Jungkook lets go; Taehyung’s hands close over Jungkook’s, thumb pressing to Jungkook’s slit as Jungkook starts riding Taehyung proper, till the only sounds in the room are echoing pants and dissonant moans, the slap of skin on skin, the light thump of the headboard against the wall.

“Fuck-fuck- _fuck_ —” Jungkook can barely speak through the grit of his teeth, his jaw clenching as his muscles tighten. He is bouncing himself up and down so fast and hard that the bed squeaks with each move and Taehyung’s ass is lifted off the bed with each thrust. Taehyung brings a hand up to his lips and licks at his palm, catching Jungkook’s eye as he does, before lowering it to Jungkook’s cock again, jerking him off in tandem to their bodies. Heat, heat, and  _heat_ , curls at the base of Jungkook’s torso as Taehyung pulls him down for a messy kiss, thumb twirling around the head of his cock and Jungkook comes with a loud moan, hot ropes of cum panting Taehyung stomach as he rides Jungkook down from his high. Taehyung runs his tongue against the back of Jungkook’s teeth as he ruts up into Jungkook, sending aftershocks of heat ricocheting through his body.

Through the haze of his own orgasm, Jungkook instinctively squeezes around Taehyung till he feels Taehyung pulsing inside him, a second before the heat of Taehyung’s orgasm hits, his hips jerking, body shaking with the finality of relief.

It is in the aftermath, in the between of desire and destination, when they are still more breath than breathing, more thought than thinking, more fluid that solid bodies of want, that Jungkook finds Taehyung’s hand and presses their palms together.

“Sweet god…” Jungkook mumbles into Taehyung’s shoulder as he fits himself next to Taehyung, their separation leaving both of them wincing, still oversensitive from what Taehyung would call  _the sex_.

“Why thank you, thank you very much,” Taehyung says, slowly tugging the condom from his softening dick and placing it on it’s lollipop wrapper on the bedside table.

Jungkook can barely gather the strength to elbow Taehyung in the ribs and Taehyung doesn’t dodge this time.

“ _Ow_ , is that any way to treat someone who you’ve just done the sex with?” Taehyung sounds too tired to be indignant but it’s a valiant effort nonetheless.

Jungkook grins, face still pressed into Taehyung’s shoulder, an arm thrown around Taehyung’s middle as he says, “We’re tied one-to-one now.”

Taehyung laughs and his fingers resume their circles against Jungkook’s back, the latter humming, smiling into Taehyung’s skin. Neither of them remember falling asleep, but both of them sleep better than they have in days.

They wake up to the sound of Yoongi’s voice.

“Holy shit, at least throw the damn condom away.” He sounds less perturbed than he should be at finding two of his dongsaengs wrapped around each other, clearly having fucked through the better part of last night.

Jungkook groans as he lifts his head off the pillow; Taehyung shifts against his chest.

“My mouth tastes like ass,” Jungkook says, voice hoarse and gravely, swallowing thick, licking his own lips.

“Probably cause that’s what you ate last night,” Namjoon’s voice comes from the doorway and Jungkook lets out another groan, reaching for a pillow to throw but the movement makes Taehyung whine and he stops.

“Morning~” Taehyung says as he finally lifts his head, weight disappearing from Jungkook’s chest, much to his silent displeasure. Taehyung sounds much too chipper for 7AM and when he looks back at Jungkook, there’s a smile on his lips.

Jungkook blinks at Taehyung before letting his eyes fall shut and raising his voice, “I didn’t  _eat ass_ —” to which Taehyung lets out a snorting laugh and rolls out of bed. Yoongi makes a disgusted noise and throws a pair of boxers at Taehyung’s face.

“We were really that loud?” Taehyung asks, sounding more eager than he should, as if it’s some kind of accomplishment that people heard them fucking through the walls.

Namjoon is leaning against the doorway, eyebrows hitched sky-high.

“Seokjin and Jimin heard you guys from all the way down the hall, so  _yes_.” He runs a hand over his face and turns back towards his own room, “We gotta be ready for makeup in ten, so… uh… clean up and shit.”

The door clicks shut behind Namjoon and Taehyung turns to look at Jungkook, nothing short of  _gleeful_  as he breaks into a verse of  _bet the neighbors know my name, they be stressin while we sexin’, I bet the neighbors know my name, my name_ —complete with ass-slaps and hip thrusts.

Jungkook pulls the covers back up over his head and throws the pillow across the room. It makes a satisfactory  _fwump_  as it meets its mark and Taehyung cuts off in the middle of another crooning verse that would probably have Trey Songz running for cover.  

“Two to one,” Jungkook says, peeking over the edge of the covers just as Taehyung launches himself at the bed and lands horizontally across Jungkook’s middle.

“Two-flat,” Taehyung corrects with a shit-eating grin.

There’s a brief, brewing silence, before Taehyung tips Jungkook’s chin up with a finger and catches his lips in a long kiss.

“Morning,” he says.

Jungkook can’t help the grin spreading over his cheeks, “Morning.”

“ _So_ ,” Taehyung says, with a grin to match Jungkook’s.

“So?” Jungkook parries.

“Was last night answer enough for your not knowing if you were thinking I was thinking what you were thinking?”

Jungkook blinks. “I really do suck at the talking thing, don’t I?”

“Yep.” But Taehyung is still smiling, and so is Jungkook.

“I think I got the gist of it though,” Jungkook says as Taehyung leans forward again, their noses touching, eyelashes fluttering against one another.

“Good, cause you seemed to have missed it the first few times.”

Jungkook cocks his head. “Huh?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes and hops off the bed to pull a shirt over his head.

“And I thought I was being obvious,” Taehyung says, “what with the getting you drunk and sleeping with you and getting with Seokjin-hyeong to get you jealous and cuddling with Jiminie and all that, but I guess we had to go at it sober for you to get it, huh.”

“I thought—”

Taehyung turns around and pins him with a look, “And you thought no one knew.” There’s an indulgent, self-satisfied grin playing across his lips that has Jungkook’s stomach doing some impressive imitations of the Cirque de Sole contortionists.

“W-w—but no one  _did_ —how long—” Jungkook feels himself getting redder by the nanosecond as Taehyung tugs on a pair of pants without bothering to put on underwear.

When he looks up again, Taehyung is straight up smirking.

“You know, when you share a house with six other people, secrets aren’t really secrets till everyone knows it.”  

**Author's Note:**

> as i've mentioned in previous fics--i'm going very happily to my reserved seat in hell, otherwise known as the Throne. good fucking bye.


End file.
